Full Oft We See Cold Wisdom Waiting

Look, How This Ring Encompasseth Thy Finger, Even So Thy Breast Encloseth My Poor Heart; Wear Both Of Them, For Both Of Them Are Thine.

No, No; 'tis All Men's Office To Speak Patience To Those That Wring Under The Load Of Sorrow, But No Man's Virtue Nor Sufficiency To Be So Moral When He Shall Endure The Like Himself. Therefore Give Me No Counsel: My Griefs Cry Louder Than Advertisement.

Where Civil Blood Makes Civil Hands Unclean

Let Me Have War, Say I; It Exceeds Peace As Far As Day Does Night; It's Spritely, Waking, Audible, And Full Of Vent.

Appetite, A Universal Wolf.